Family That Stays
by Koohii Cafe
Summary: Petunia receives a letter that will turn her world upside down; her firstborn is finally returning home.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Family That Stays

**Author:** Koohii Cafe

**Rating:** K

**Fandom:** BtVS/HP

**Disclaimer:** Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor HP are mine. ^^;

**Written for:** TtH 'The Missing Dursley' Challenge

**Summary:** _Petunia receives a letter that will turn her world upside down; her firstborn is finally returning home._

**Author's notes:** Set during Order of the Phoenix for HP and season one for BtVS.

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

Petunia stared at the letter with shaking hands, her eyes wide and breathe short and shallow. It couldn't be… It couldn't happen! As the shock set in further, her knees buckled and she stumbled back, dropping into the armchair by the fire quite ungracefully, hardly even hearing her husband's deep rumbling demands to know what was wrong, because she knew that if she told him, it would all fall apart. Vernon had nicely erased any memory of that horrible time, even if Petunia herself had been unable to, and if he knew that it was about to truly return to haunt them… If he knew how very much she had _not _forgotten…

"Petunia, you must tell me! What does the letter _say_?" His beefy hands were reaching, determined, but she let out what was almost a squawk of dismay, clutching the paper to her chest tightly, fearfully. Quickly, panicked, she shook her head and folded it with still trembling hands to stuff into her purse that lie upon the coffee table.

"No!" Too sharp, he'd never believe her! She had to calm down, but of course, it didn't matter. Far too soon it would be too late to hide anymore. He would know. However, if she could just… stall the rage, keep it at bay for as long as she could. "I-, it's. It's news!" A sharp, nervous bark of a laugh. It was news indeed. "From- from an old friend! From college!" That too, was true, but it was far from the _full _truth. It also didn't help, instead causing Vernon to turn red in his frustration, his face scrunching up and his flailing arms reaching for her purse, for the letter!

"For heaven's _sake_, Petunia, just _give me the letter_!" Then, he was lunging forward, up from his own seat towards her purse. Terrified, she grabbed it and took off, out of the living room and up the stairs toward her bedroom.

Huffing angrily as his bony wife easily evaded his grasp, Vernon lumbered after her. Halfway up the stairs, however, and long after the bedroom door had slammed shut and locked, the doorbell rang. What a time to have visitors! He paused, looking back at the door. He wasn't expecting any company… Well, he had more important things to do at the moment; like find out what Petunia was hiding!

"Boy! Get the door!" he bellowed, and continued up the stairs.

.org/Challenge-4770/The+Missing+


	2. Chapter 1: Visitors

**Title: **Family That Stays

**Author:** Koohii Cafe

**Rating:** K

**Fandom:** BtVS/HP

**Disclaimer:** Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor HP are mine. ^^;

**Written for:** TtH 'The Missing Dursley' Challenge

**Summary:** _Petunia receives a letter that will turn her world upside down; her firstborn is finally returning home._

**Author's notes:** Set Set during Order of the Phoenix for HP and season one for BtVS. Buffy's birthday has been shifted to accommodate the plot. I apologize for the _uber _long wait on this story, guys. My drive to write just kind of- disappeared on me. I'm going to try really hard to make sure there's never a wait like this again!

* * *

**Visitors

* * *

**

The sound of his uncle's bellowing voice would have woken him from his sleep even if his aunt's thundering escape past his door hadn't, and Harry sighed before shoving off his bed and onto his feet. It was a sure thing that anyone at the front door would hardly be there to see him, and yet he was stuck with the duty of greeting them anyway, all because his aunt and uncle were so wrapped up in whatever terrible drama was happening now that they couldn't be bothered. Dudley, of course, would never have been given the duty even if he_ hadn't_ been out elsewhere terrifying the neighborhood children; after all, he was their ickle Duddlikins, he shouldn't have to deal with _any _responsibility! The thought made Harry's lips screw up into a smirk as he slowly made his way out of his bedroom and down the hall to the stairs, passing his panting uncle who was just now making it up. A fleshy palm hit the middle of his chest before he could descend, and he found himself looking up at his uncle.

"Now don't you make any trouble," the older man warned, a flicker of anger in his eyes. "I've got very important business with your aunt. Keep them occupied until we're finished. And remember! If you're not on your best behavior, if there's _any _funny business, we'll lock that bird of yours up for a month!" Then, a triumphant smirk on his face, he renewed his chase with a loud roar of "Petunia!"

With a roll of his eyes, Harry continued down the stairs; as if he would jeopardize his time at Hogwarts just to scare away any 'guests' they had! But then, the threat to lock up Hedwig… His expression soured at the thought. It wasn't as if she had brought anything important home- he was so tired, so _frustrated _of the vague letters his friends were sending him!- but he wouldn't want to risk it. What if something changed? What if he needed to get word off to Ron and Hermione, or to Dumbledore? No, he would behave… for the moment.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Harry forced a pleasant smile on his face as he unlocked and opened the door to find- something he hadn't expected. Standing there on the stoop was an unusual couple. The first was an older man, done up in a sharp tweed suit with tousled dark hair and green eyes hidden behind wire rimmed glasses; although it was obvious he was meant to look quick and ready for anything, there was something that seemed worn around the edges, almost like Sirius or Remus sometimes did. It was the girl, however, that caught Harry's attention. She looked to be about his age, petite with long blonde hair, stylish clothes, and a cheerful smile that belied something darker that flickered in her hazel eyes. It was a look that he knew very well. Licking his lips almost nervously, Harry stepped back a bit as he directed that fake smile at the two.

"Um, hi. Can I help you?"

"Yes," the man answered, peering carefully at Harry through his glasses. "We're looking for Mrs. Petunia Dursley."

"Right." Taking another step back, this one big enough to leave room for the couple to pass, he extended his hand. "She's a bit- busy- right now, but you can come in if you like."

There was a flash of something in the man's eyes, as if he didn't approve of the invitation, but then it was gone and he was nodding in return. "That would be most appreciated. It is rather- rather imperative that we speak to her; we will wait however long is necessary." He stepped through the door and past Harry somewhat stiffly, looking back at the girl who just shrugged back before she followed. Shutting the door once they were inside, he flipped the lock and led the pair into the sitting room. As they both took a seat on the couch, Harry eyed the girl closely. That look in her eyes… It was the same one that stared back at him from the mirror day after day. It was a look that said she had seen far too much than someone her age should have. It made him wonder, but- if they were here to see his aunt, it was clear that they would have nothing to do with him.

Pushing his curiosity to the side for now, the dark haired teen offer a wan smile when a loud thump sounded from the second floor- his uncle had apparently finally gotten the bedroom door open, as the thump was followed by the muffled voices of the adults- and motioned towards the kitchen.

"I don't know how long they'll be, but if you like, I can get you some tea."

"Tea?" The petite blonde wrinkled her nose, even as the older man gave her a scolding look. "What? I'm a coffee kind of girl!"

"Buffy, don't be rude."

"Fine." The girl, Buffy, screwed her lips up into a pout that was directed at her companion, before glancing back up at Harry. "Tea would be nice… Do you have any sugar?"

"Of course," he answered after a moment. Suppressing the surprise that must have shown on his face, he nodded and backed out of the sitting room, leaving the pair to chatter as he made his way to the kitchen. Her accent had marked her as American, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. For the life of him, he couldn't think of any reason an American girl his age would be visiting his aunt. Of course, there were the occasional letters that came from the states addressed to her, but Harry wasn't supposed to know about those. In fact, neither Dudley nor his uncle knew about them; Harry had only stumbled upon them by accident, years ago when he'd been rooting around the house in an attempt to find one of the elusive Hogwarts letters he'd been denied when he was eleven.

As a matter of fact- wasn't the argument today about a letter? The look on Harry's face was thoughtful as he laid out the tea platter with a couple cups, a bowl of sugar, and container of milk. There was already a kettle on the stove- his aunt must have been preparing for some tea herself- so all he could do now was wait. It seemed that was all he'd done the entire summer- but he pushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to brood over it. Instead, he turned to peek back into the other room, at the mystery guests sitting on the couch. The man was speaking in hushed tones to the girl, cleaning his glasses and eying their surroundings with what almost seemed to be suspicion. The girl, on the other hand, seemed to be tuning it all out, the brief flash of animation that had shown in her eyes when she had spoken gone. Harry let his eyes run over her intently, searching for… searching for what, he didn't know. There was something almost… familiar about her. Before he could get anywhere near placing it, the kettle sounded, shaking him from his thoughts as he hurried to take it from the stove. A moment later, he was carrying the tray into the sitting room, and setting it down before them.

"Here you are." Acting more a polite host than he might have if the visitors had been any of his aunt and uncle's usual friends, Harry placed the tea strainers over each cup, pouring out the drink carefully into each. Then, just to be sure that there could be no complaints, he smiled slightly and removed the cover from the sugar bowl after setting the kettle aside. "Sugar, and plenty of it."

"Ooooh, goody! Just what I always wanted." The only thing that belied her cheerful tone was the flash of worry from her companion, even as it was replaced by shock as both he and Harry watched the amount of sugar she piled into her steaming tea. The milk that was also greedily added to the sweet concoction after her first sip elicited a bitter face amused the younger of the two watching; obviously the American was unused to the taste of the tea. The older gentleman, on the other hand, looked on with almost a kind of horror.

"Buffy! You mustn't-" He started, only to be silenced by a swift look from the girl. He sighed, removing his glasses to once more rub at the lens, before replacing them and giving their host an apologetic look. "I am terribly sorry. Buffy is- rather fond of sweet drinks."

"Don't be," Harry laughed softly, for some reason feeling more light hearted at their antics than he'd felt… for a long time. "Everyone to their own tastes. I can only apologize for the wait. My aunt and uncle are…" The muffled shouting still wafting down the stairs said it all. Something he'd said registered in the man's face though, as a shrewd look was directed his way.

"Your aunt and uncle? So you're not Petunia's son, Dudley?"

"No," Harry answered quickly, getting the idea very quickly that, though it seemed the visitors knew a bit about the Dursley's, they obviously didn't know them personally. The idea that he was Dudley… it was laughable. Then, two things happened at once at his answer; the man seemed to clam up, even as Buffy looked almost crestfallen. It confounded him. What could have possibly caused such a reaction from them? What mystery could possibly involve his aunt, cousin, and two visitors who didn't seem to know them at all?

"I see." Polite to a fault, if even more reserved than before, the man nodded. "We certainly appreciate your hospitality in the meantime. If you could, whenever possible, let Mrs. Dursley know that Rupert Giles is here, it would be greatly appreciated. I believe she will recognize the name. She should be expecting us."

"Of course." Oddly enough, his aunt and uncle chose that moment to finish their apparent argument, sweet silence replacing the shouting that had continued on the entire time. Nodding a little, Harry backed up and began to move towards the staircase. "I'll let her know now."

Then, as the man nodded his thanks, Harry moved off to tell his aunt. Hopefully, once things had settled down and she went to greet her visitors, he could listen in, and unravel this mystery that had presented itself at his doorstep.


	3. Chapter 2: Anne

**Title:** Family That Stays

**Author:** Koohii Cafe

**Rating:** K

**Fandom:** BtVS/HP

**Disclaimer:** Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor HP are mine. ^^;

**Written for:** TtH 'Missing Dursley' Challenge

**Summary:** _Petunia receives a letter that will turn her world upside down; her firstborn is finally returning home._

**Author's notes:** Set Set during Order of the Phoenix for HP and season one for BtVS. Buffy's birthday has been shifted to accommodate the plot. Woo! A couple months is better than over a year, yes? Here's the next chapter!

* * *

**Anne**

* * *

The silence emanating from his aunt and uncle's bedroom was deafening, after the roars and shouts that had echoed before, and the sight that greeted him when he reached the open door was almost frightening. His aunt, looking more terrified than he'd ever seen her, was curled up in the corner behind their bed, long skinny legs pressed close to her bony chest as she actually seemed to bite at her nails, eyes wide and fixed upon his uncle.

Vernon Dursley, Harry had learned from years and years of experience, was a man whose anger was deafening, brash, forceful, and painful. He screamed, shouted, and raged as loudly as he possibly could, using his voice to threaten and frighten, and his beefy body to physically carry out those threats when it was the worst. The louder he yelled, the angrier he was. The only time he was quiet was when he didn't want the neighbors to hear. But this time- this time it was different. Harry's uncle was actually silent, standing at the end of the bed with the letter crushed in one hefty fist, trembling as his beady little eyes glared steadily at Petunia. This kind of anger- Harry'd never seen anything like it.

He almost didn't want to speak up, to bring any attention to himself with his uncle in such a mood, but if he didn't- it'd be worse for him when Vernon realized it later. So, after a moment's hesitation, Harry coughed loudly, causing both adults to look suddenly at him, and spoke.

"Aunt Petunia. A Mr. Rupert Giles is here. He said you should be expecting him."

The name made both of them tense, and then, finally, there was a loud roar from Vernon, that familiar kind of anger, and the large man charged out of the bedroom and for the stairs. Petunia quivered in indecision for a moment, something that looked like an odd mix of fear, hope, and anxiety flitting through her eyes, before she too ran out the door and after her husband. The mystery deepened with every second, it seemed. And with his aunt and uncle too distracted to pay him any attention, he could-

"Boy!" His uncle stood at the top of the stairs, looking back at Harry as he stepped out of the bedroom to follow. "Go to your room. I won't have the likes of you interfering with this." And he was gone yet again, this time down the stairs and into the sitting room. An angry resentment settled into Harry's mood, as it seemed he was to be left out, predictably. But instead of doing as he was told, rebelliousness bubbling inside him, he waited only until both adults had disappeared into the sitting room before sneaking down the stairs after them, and into the cupboard he'd once been forced into. If he couldn't see what happened, then he could at least listen. He wouldn't be left out again, not when he had to deal with that thing from everyone else in his life right now.

* * *

"I won't have her kind in this house, or this family! Get out, I say, out of my house!"

Giles' eyes hardened at those words, that tone of voice, and his harsh gaze settled on the owner of the voice, a large and overweight man who appeared to be the correct age to be Vernon Dursley. The glare only deepened as he sensed more than saw his charge flinch beside him. He didn't know the full extent of what had happened between she and her family, but he knew enough to know that those sort of words would cut far deeper than she would let show, and he'd grown attached enough to her already that he wouldn't stand for it. That hard looked made its way up and down Dursley, taking in every measure of the man, and finding him deeply lacking, and Giles stood, setting his tea cup down with a jarring clank of clashing ceramics on the coffee table.

"I have no idea what you mean by that, Mr. Dursley, but I would see you calm yourself and think twice about your words." Anger flashed across his face, as the pudgy fool started to speak once more, and he cut him off quickly. "Let me put your fears to rest regardless. Our business here will be short. Ms. Summers and I have business elsewhere."

"You- you think you can invade my home with that- that thing! And then demand _me _to rush through things! I'll think not, Mr. Giles. I don't know who sent you but- but-" Maybe it should have been comical, the way Dursley's face reddened as he raged over what it seemed he'd wanted himself, or the way he trailed off as he realized he had no clue who Giles really was, but any humor he might have found was wiped away immediately by the insult hurled at Buffy. There was no way this imbecile could have known about her status as the Slayer, but…

"Rupert Giles, of the Watcher's Council." His voice was ice cold as he glared at the other man, watching carefully for any reaction. There was nothing out of the ordinary, however, other than the way his eyes widened marginally at the casual use of such a powerful organization's name. No indication that Dursley knew the Council was anything other than the rich and well known society for historical preservation that served as its public front in Britain. "It is obvious that you have neither the desire nor the means to care for Ms. Summers. We are here only as a formality, so that you may sign her guardianship over to someone deserving and able. Then we will be gone from your house, and you may go on with your life."

"Gone?" The strangled whisper pulled his attention away from Dursley, to the almost wraith of a woman hovering in the doorway to the sitting room. Her eyes were haunted, somehow, and all for Buffy, as if she were drinking in a sight long denied to her, one she had needed. This must have been Petunia Dursley, the first name he'd been given in regards to this whole thing, and the one he had really come looking for. Then, she seemed to realize that she'd spoken aloud, and her gaze darted quickly to her husband, fearful.

Giles had no pity for her. Giles felt nothing for her but apathy, and disgust.

"Yes," he answered firmly, sparing no feelings. "Even had I thought this would have been a viable home for Ms. Summers, your husband has made it clear that that is not an option. I would not imagine of leaving her to someone who can harass and insult and innocent child within moments of meeting her."

"But Joyce-"

"Is dead." There was another flinch behind him, from the couch, and the watcher felt a twinge of guilt for putting it so bluntly, but he could tell that that was what was needed for these people. Dursley was trembling in anger still, as if ready to explode, and his wife- she was inconsequential. These were the people who had abandoned Buffy once. He'd be damned if he let them have a second chance at her when she'd already been hurt so recently. "What Mrs. Summers wished for her daughter, while admirable, is immaterial. Buffy would be far better off in the care of the Council."

"You don't know what you're getting into." Dursley had found his voice again, his angry glare now turned towards the teenage girl on his couch. There was a sneer on his face, before he looked back up at Giles. "Her father had the right idea, washing his hands of the little witch. Your Council won't want to dirty themselves with her. Her kind is nothing but trouble."

"You _will _hold your tongue, or I will hold it for you!" Something dangerous lurked behind his eyes, held in the promise of violence that rode his voice. God help him, if that fool said _one _more thing about his Slayer, he'd-

"Giles, just- stop." The soft voice seemed to deflate his fury almost instantly, and he turned away from the pompous idiot to look down at Buffy. "They obviously don't want anything to do with me. Just- get them to sign, and let's go."

She looked utterly shattered in that moment, hazel eyes swimming in a sea of pain she was having trouble holding back, before she bowed her head to hide them. Despite the fact that he'd come here with the intent of getting the Dursleys to hand over her guardianship, he knew she'd had hope for the family she'd never known. She'd talked to him about it somewhat, during their journey here; the desperate desire that this family wouldn't throw her away as her adoptive father had. His gaze softened when he noticed the minutest of trembles in her shoulders.

"Oh Buffy," he murmured. Resisting the almost fatherly urge to rest his hand on her shoulder for comfort, he turned instead to the briefcase he'd brought in with him. Without a word, he set it on the coffee table and clicked it up, retrieving two thick sheaves of paper. Holding out one to each of the Dursleys, he regarded then with a cold expression that brooked no argument. "You _will _sign over guardianship of Ms. Summers, and then we will leave. If you do not cooperate, the full force of the Watcher's Council will come down upon you, and you will dearly wish that you had heeded my words."

Dursley seemed ready to rally some blustering argument against it until the thread was issued. His chubby face paled then, especially after a look at Giles, and he took the papers with a forceful growl, making his way to the nearby dining room to sign. The watcher's gaze fell upon Dursley's wife then. There was a resemblance between this woman and his Slayer, if one looked closely enough; though her hair was shorter and a slightly flatter shade of blonde than Buffy's, her eyes a pale and washed out green as compared to the younger girl's vibrant hazel green hue, there was a similarity in the shape of her face, the turn of her nose, and that moment, the pain in her gaze. It was to be expected, as the woman was Buffy's biological mother, but whereas the sight of Buffy's pain had softened him, Mrs. Dursley's expression only served to harden his determination.

"Do not waste my time, Mrs. Dursley," Giles said harshly, glaring at the woman. "Ms. Summers and I have other things that require our attention this day and-"

"_Anne_."

"I- excuse me?" He halted abruptly, his gaze narrowing at the whispered interruption from the woman. That was Buffy's middle name, yes, but-

"Her name… Her name is 'Anne.'" She was trembling in seeming terror, but her tone had strengthened somewhat. Slowly, she pulled away from Giles, leaving the paper still in his hand, as she shook her head. "I- I know Joyce kept it as her middle name, but- it would have been her first."

"Petunia?" The low rumble from Dursley sounded almost threatening, even to Giles' ears, and the man began to rise from the table. Though before she had cowered, the bony woman somehow pulled herself up further now, shaking her head once more.

"Her name is Anne."


End file.
